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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455350">A Miracle on 81st Street</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khamet/pseuds/Khamet'>Khamet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ABDL, Abandonment Issues, Age Regression/De-Aging, Crazy assassins need hugs too, Diapers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I just want them to be happy D':, MD/LG, Mommy Issues, Mommy Kink, My longest deep sigh ever, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Slow Build, Soft Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, VERY slow build lmao, Villanelle is going to get the TLC she derseves, Villanelle's real mom sucks ass, Why Did I Write This?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:54:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khamet/pseuds/Khamet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Update: This fic is on temporary hiatus. Life is a little too busy at the moment, but this fic hasn’t been abandoned. Look for a new chapter in June :)</p><p>Villanelle's new assignment takes her to the streets of Rome where she is tasked with dispatching the Twelve's wayward psychologist. The job looked simple enough, but a shadow seems to have fallen over the assassin. A shadow which stretches all the way back to childhood. </p><p>Perhaps Eve is the right one to shed some light. </p><p>(Takes place between episodes 5 and 6 of season three)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sandwiched between the busy thoroughfare of 4th and Grieg Avenue, lay a narrow road. It's proper name was 81st Street and it was the place where many broken things went to feel at home, yet to the locals it was known only as 'Skid Row'. Skid Row knew only how to attract the most depraved, desperate members of society. It was here on 81st Street that flaws could be tolerated and perfection reviled. </p><p>No one took notice of the deep cracks in the sidewalk, nor did they ogle the drafty apartment complex looming over a dank waterway. At one time the city had placed barbed wire between the street and the waterway to stop the riffraff from infecting the other streets, but that was hardly necessary. The brokenness of 81st Street was infectious all on its own. Boats moored along the dirty canal had the misfortune of falling under the apartment's heavy shadow. It was possible to imagine what they could have been before making their final voyage to the sagging wharf where they sat low in the water with blunt noses pointed toward the street watching, waiting. It was as though they had given up on ever seeing the open waters again; much like the people of Skid Row, they were merely existing. </p><p>Those who sought this place out rarely left; 81st Street was not picky with who it let into its fold. It took in the drunkard and the chemist, the addict and the drifter, any person who could find the street of their own accord— as stated, it wasn't picky.  The people who made this place home were not the sort to meddle in another person's business, seeing as they were too focused on keeping their own crumbling lives together as best they could manage. They asked few questions and made even fewer comments. This was how they survived. </p><p>It was also how they missed a young woman crying behind a dumpster outside the apartment complex. </p>
<hr/><p>By all accounts, Villanelle should have been having a stellar morning. She'd completed her mission objective within hours of landing in Rome, a simple grab and go— she had <em>grabbed</em> her target for a 'tourist picture' in front of a statue, and <em>gotten </em>away with murder in broad daylight. Child's play. In fact, the job was so pedestrian that she'd treated herself to gelato simply because she could. It was her hope that the cold treat would work to dispel the gloom which hung over her head since killing Mauris Geller,  but the gelato had come and gone with no visible change in mood. With a determined scowl, the assassin hopped into the nearest cab and asked to be taken 'anywhere but here'. </p><p>The cheery faces of tourists became fewer and farther between as they took backroads out of the city. The cab driver was competent enough not to ask her stupid questions, instead choosing to sing along with the radio. Villanelle's extraction date was set for a week from today and she could tell that it would be a very long week. She suddenly wished that she had taken more time to eliminate her mark. There was no thrill of the chase, no reward for being clever, as she dispatched the psychologist. Just… misery. He'd said some very stupid words prior to his life being cut short. It was these words that echoed in Villanelle's head and brought her low. When the thoughts seemed on the verge of doing her in, Villanelle ordered the cab driver to pull over. The street which they had stopped on was on the corner of 4th and Grieg Avenue. A street known as Skid Row. </p><p>***</p><p>"Stupid. Fucking. Brain." Villanelle punctuated each word by beating the sides of her head with the heels of her palms. "Stop making me feel bad. Stop it." </p><p>A gnarled man muttering to himself paused mid-conversation to offer a sympathetic look, then quickly resumed his discussion. Her problems were none of his fucking business, plus, his conversation was of utmost importance and could not be postponed for a moment longer. He left the young woman to sort out her own mess. The trouble was, Villanelle was no good at sorting out her own mess. That was always someone else's job. </p><p>The burner phone in her pocket went off. A text message. She ignored it. It went off again a few seconds later, this time three in quick succession. She ignored these as well. Whoever it was on the other end was not easily deterred and so they called. Twice. Finally Villanelle picked up.</p><p>It was Konstantin. </p><p>"We agreed you would meet me at the train terminal an hour ago. You are not where I told you to wait." </p><p>"I'm busy. What do you want?" </p><p>Konstantin spoke quietly to someone else. When he returned to their conversation he sounded peeved. "Where are you? I am coming to pick you up." </p><p>"I'm not like your little brat, I do not need 'picking up'. Now leave me alone." Villanelle was about to hang up when she heard a familiar voice in the background. It was a strong, low voice that filled her with something akin to longing. Perhaps it was homesickness? Indigestion? She didn't bother to explore that route of inquiry. </p><p><em>"Where is she? Is she hurt?" </em>The shitty microphone on Konstantin's flip phone did not do Eve Polastri's voice justice, but it was nice to hear it all the same. It sounded like she was standing close... close enough that she could wrest the phone out of Konstantin's hand and put it to her ear. "Vill— Oksana. Where are you?" </p><p>"Eve. I… I…" Words were failing Villanelle. She looked down at her overalls stained with dumpster juice and dried gelato. She could easily be mistaken for a hobo. "I'm… Now is not a good time. I'm having a moment." </p><p>"A moment?" Eve snorted. "What does <em>that</em> mean?" </p><p>"It means I want to be left alone. Stop bothering me, nosy woman!" Villanelle fumbled with the cheap phone and wound up throwing it away from her in a fit of anger. "Stupid phone!" The phone skittered under the dumpster.</p><p><em>"Hello? Villanelle!"</em> </p><p>But Villanelle couldn't hear anything. It was just her and her thoughts. Her terrible, awful thoughts. </p>
<hr/><p>"Great, you lost her." Konstantin threw up his hands in defeat. Being Villanelle's handler was not an easy job, but it was one that he did well. However, it was only possible to do that when the pesky MI5 agent wasn't sticking her nose in everyone's business. How was he supposed to find Villanelle now? If it hadn't been for Eve's meddling, Oksana would be on her way to her apartment with a new disguise. Goddamn Eve— "What are you doing?" He looked over to see that Eve had not let go of the burner phone. She was punching a series of numbers into her personal cell.</p><p>"Shut up, I'm working."</p><p>"Working on <em>what?" </em>He asked truculently. Losing his ward had put him in a foul temper and he was in no mood to play 20-questions. "Hello? Earth to Eve."</p><p>"God, give me a minute, will you? I'm working on something." </p><p>"Is it something important you can do elsewhere? Like, at your house. Away from me." </p><p>Eve ignored him. </p><p>Ten minutes later Konstantin found out that 'something' was code word for 'triangulating a phone signal' (whatever the hell that meant). Eve triumphantly brandished Google Maps. There was a small red pin on the upper right hand corner reading: <em>17 minutes away</em>. Konstantin was admittedly impressed, but it hurt his ego to show it. Instead he grabbed the car keys and marched toward their rental vehicle. </p><p>"I'm driving."</p><p>"Fine. I get to choose the music." </p><p>"No, driver always chooses the music." </p><p>They bickered all the way to the car. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for joining me on part two. After hitting 'Post' I started to find all my spelling errors, so I ask that you be patient with me as I try to iron those out :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Konstantin took the backroads to Skid Row at a breakneck speed which reduced their commute into 9 harrowing minutes. Road signs became nothing more than pesky suggestions as he flew down the street in his rental AMC Hornet.</p><p><em>'Turn left in 50 meters,'</em> came the automated voice from Eve's phone. It was the GPS rattling off directions at the last possible second (or so it felt to the passenger). </p><p>Konstantin made a hard left and for one heart-stopping moment the car jumped the curb. Pedestrians had a split second to choose whether or not they wished to die on this particular street. Those who had difficulty making this choice were assisted by peers with an ounce of common sense. One startled individual snapped out of their stupor and slapped the side of the car as if it were a misbehaving dog. Eve, who was sitting wide-eyed in the passenger seat, laughed nervously. Despite there being very little to laugh about, Konstantin contributed his own wheezing laughter to the chaos. </p><p>The moment of mania came and went in rapid succession. Eve's mind had wondered back to Villanelle and how terrible she sounded over the phone. </p><p>"What's wrong with your face? You look terrible." Konstantin shared his unhelpful, unsolicited opinion with Eve who did in fact look… well, she looked terrible. Konstantin didn't care enough to ask what she was feeling, but in his own way he was expressing concern.</p><p>Eve abruptly changed the subject. "Hey, do you think she's okay? Villanelle, I mean. That whole, 'I need a moment', thing was weird. I know she's human and has emotions, but I guess I never thought she actually had any... I'm kinda worried about her." </p><p>"You worry about dumb things." Said Konstantin matter of factly. He kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. "Have you ever had a cat?"</p><p>Eve furrowed her brow. "Like, have I ever owned a cat? No. My dad was allergic—" </p><p>"I don't care, your dad is not part of my point. You probably know that cats always land on their feet. Doesn't matter where they fall from, just know that they land right side up every time. Villanelle is a cat."</p><p>Eve waited to see if Konstantin would elaborate further on his point, though she waited in vain. He nodded his head as if he were agreeing with his profound revelation on Villanelle's nature, yet Eve was not so easily swayed by his parallels of cats and assassins. She bit the inside of her cheek. "O…kay… right... cats, Villanelle, feet... I see." </p><p>"God, are you really the best in your field? If you don't like my answer, then I suggest you stop asking stupid questions. Of course Villanelle is okay. If she isn't, you have my blessing to try and fix the little goblin yourself. God knows I don't have the time to set her straight. Hold on," They made another spontaneous turn and narrowly missed a fire hydrant. "Fucking GPS..."</p><p>Eve's response was lost as Konstantin retreated into his own thoughts. He hated to admit it— even if it was only to himself— but he worried about Oksana. That mean little cat would always land on her paws, whether she wanted to or not. What didn't kill her didn't always make her stronger, sometimes it fucked with her head and it made her unbearable to be around. It was during these moments that Konstantin realized how painfully human Villanelle could be. However cold or callous she might be, she still required a measure of kindness. A tender touch here, a thoughtful word there; he figured it didn't take much to satisfy the foundational needs of such a damaged creature. </p><p>Konstantin snapped out of his trance as the steering wheel took a violent turn under his hands. "Have all the women around here gone mad?" He slowed the car and spared Eve a scathing glare. She ignored him. They were now turning into the seedy part of town, the area where knives and guns were better tools for negotiation than words. Wanna-be thugs flashed silver-toothed smiles at the occupants of the Hornet, while scum with a penchant for trafficking humans eyed them with bold curiosity. Eve shrank away from the window. </p><p>Konstantin shook his head. "Unbelievable. You're scared of petty criminals and discount pimps, but your pet assassin isn't a pressing concern? Get your life together, Eve."</p><p>The car was brought to the top of 81st Street where Konstantin shifted it into park . This location boasted fewer thugs than the previous street and the slouching wharf was a nice touch, but it was far from inviting. On the other side of the street a woman exchanged a heated dialogue with an invisible partner. Eve swung her arm out to indicate that they had arrived at the underbelly of Rome. Konstantin did not remove his seatbelt. </p><p>"Well, what are you waiting for? We're here." </p><p>"I can see why your detective skills make you such an asset. Yes, we <em>are </em>here, but unless you want the car stolen, I suggest you get orphan Annie. Now." Konstantin made shooing hands in Eve's direction. "Be quick about it too!" He yelled at her retreating form. </p><p>She flipped him the bird.</p><hr/><p>The GPS took Eve to the parking lot of the apartment building. Perhaps 'parking lot' was too generous a word for the buckling tarmac. Tufts of weeds poked through the cracks, a reminder that it was possible for something to grow in this decrepit environment against all odds. Scattered between the weeds and the tarmac ridges were shattered beer bottles and moldy tires, abandoned needles and rusting soda cans. Eve did her best keep her focus on recovering Villanelle… and avoiding the dangers of contaminated needles— God, there were so many needles. </p><p>"Villanelle? Are you out here?" Eve felt rather silly poking her head between parked cars and fallen beams. She was well aware that Villanelle's job hinged on her ability to disappear without a trace, but Eve had a hunch the assassin had not fled the scene. Well, she <em>hoped </em>at the very least. </p><p>Eve searched high and low for Villanelle. It took her the better part of 15 minutes to comb the perimeter of the apartment complex and the whole while she kept an eye out for the less-than-savoury individuals on Skid Row. She was rewarded for her effort when she caught sight of a foot peeking out from behind a dumpster. The dumpster was dirty and gross by all standards, though not a bad hiding place for someone who wished to be left alone. If this were a more jovial setting Eve might have made a crude comparison to that of the Sesame Street character, Oscar, hiding in the trash. But this was Villanelle, a highly dangerous woman who likely had no idea what Sesame Street was or how to get there. Eve did not make the joke.</p><p>"H- hey, Villa— uh, Oksana. It's me, Eve. Is that… is that you?"</p><p>The foot retreated. "I told you to leave me alone."</p><p>Hardly an admission, but the voice was easily recognized as belonging to Villanelle.</p><p><em>Okay, so far so good. Now I just need to get her to the car and we can go and— </em>Eve's train of thought was interrupted by a shoe being lobbed at her head. It fell short by a half meter, a sensible loafer by the looks of it. She picked it up and threw it back. </p><p>"Your aim is shit." Growled the voice of Villanelle from behind the city receptacle. </p><p>
  <em>Well she hasn't run away yet. Quick, Eve, think of something neutral and inviting.</em>
</p><p>"I bet you won't say it to my face." Came Eve's well-thought-out reply. </p><p><em>I'm a dumbass and now I've lost her. I just </em> <span class="u">had</span> <em> to say whatever dumb shit popped into my head— </em></p><p>The dumpster creaked and groaned as one very tall, very angry woman emerged like Truth coming out of her well to shame mankind. Villanelle was covered in a series of stains, presumably from the puddle of garbage juice oozing from cracks in the metal bin. Her hair was a nest of loose ends and flyaway hair unable to be tucked into her lopsided bun. She bore a scowl as dark as a thunder cloud, but oh god was she beautiful.</p><p><em>Shut up, brain. Stay on task. Get Villanelle, take her to the car, tell Konstantin to fuck off— </em>suddenly Villanelle was interrupting Eve's train of thought:</p><p>"I don't want you here!" </p><p>The few pedestrians on the sidewalk wisely kept their eyes down. A domestic dispute between lovers was none of their damn business. </p><p>"Are you deaf? Go away, stalker!"</p><p>"Why are you behaving this way? Stop being childish." </p><p>"Oh ho! Is <em>this</em> childish?" </p><p>Villanelle's performance ramped up and she turned to shake her rear at Eve. Had Eve been an agent of lower caliber she might have mistaken this behavior for another one of Villanelle's annoying antics, however she was a cut above the rest and she knew she could endure the display. She took a deep breath, lowered herself to the broken asphalt, and prepared herself to wait for as long as it took. </p><p>"Look at me! I'm someone who needs attention because I didn't get it from my mommy!" Villanelle pantomimed someone crying. "Boo hoo, I wasn't loved and now I kill people. Oh no! I'm a big scary wolf." Curtains on the lower floor of the complex twitched as curious tenants looked on. None were so bold as to be caught staring, but they kept their curious gaze on the tall woman.</p><p>Eve continued to ignore the tantrum and contented herself counting bottle caps, much to Villanelle's chagrin. Nothing the petulant assassin could say or do had any impact on her intended audience. She pranced around like a circus performer, shouted her ABCs in four different languages, and for good measure she punched the wall. Nothing. No response. Finally, Villanelle plunked down on the floor. "You're so annoying, I can't even hear myself think!" </p><p>They sat in silence for a few minutes, Eve switching her focus from bottle caps to counting the number of apartment windows. Forty-three by her count. Villanelle spent her quiet time pulling at the broken skin on her knuckles. After what felt like hours, Eve broke the silence. "You really did a number on that wall. Let me see..." She took Villanelle's clenched hand and smoothed out the fingers. The wounds were minor and would scab over night, given Villanelle didn't punch any more walls. "I think you'll live. Are you ready to come home?" </p><p>"No, I told you I was having a moment." </p><p>"You could have your moment somewhere that doesn't house a bunch of murderers. Like my place, for starters." </p><p>"You could be a murderer," Villanelle turned her nose up and withdrew her hand. "I don't know what you like to do in your free time. For all I know these are your cousins and aunties in there. We'd better find out." Villanelle picked up a fist-sized rock and drew her arm back to throw it at the nearest apartment window. Eve caught her wrist. </p><p>"Stop it, Villanelle. You're drawing unnecessary attention to yourself." </p><p>A feral expression dawned across Villanelle's face as she ripped herself out of Eve's grasp. "I like attention, Eve. Remember, I'm just a monster who wasn't loved enough. I do bad things and you're here to stop me." </p><p>Eve did not rise to the easy bait. The assassin was looking for a fight, but Eve did not come here to argue. Instead she got to her feet and dusted off the seat of her pants. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but I don't get paid enough for that. I came out here to see if you needed my help..." Eve shrugged. "Clearly I was wrong. Go back to your dumpster, keep punching walls. I don't care." </p><p>Despite the cold fingers of panic gripping Eve's heart, she willed herself not to glance back as she retraced her steps to the mouth of the street. She made it as far as the corner store when she was viciously grabbed from behind. A dirty hand found its way over Eve's face and she took an involuntary inhale of its foul odor. That was nothing compared to the smell of urine and must accompanying the filthy individual. Panic set in and Eve writhed and kicked, though it was ineffective against the person who had her by the face. They dragged her backward, up and over the curb and onto a pockmarked surface. Eve clawed at the hand over her face, then switched to the one under her arms. They were too tight.</p><p>The kidnapper stumbled and exclaimed something in Italian. Eve cursed herself for not obeying that damn green owl when it told her to practice. She didn't have long to think about the owl as she was dropped unceremoniously to the ground and the wind forcefully expelled for her chest. She lay gasping like a fish out of water. Sounds of a struggle could be heard. Rubber-soled shoes sliding on concrete, a crude blade being brought across flesh, the death rattle of a wasted life. When they came to a natural conclusion the only sound was that of Eve's recovering breaths.</p><p>A familiar shadow swam into view above Eve. It threw something away from itself that broke into many pieces when it landed; something it didn't want Eve to see. Eve was neither surprised nor alarmed by the shadow; the pesky black dots obscuring her vision could not hide the fact that Villanelle had come to her rescue. The shadowy Villanelle sat beside Eve where she put her head between her knees and cried. </p><p>They stayed this way til they were found by the irascible man in an AMC Hornet. He bundled them into the car and drove away. </p><p>***</p><p>The undesirable occupants of Skid Row watched jealously as the car sped away from Skid Row. In their hearts they knew nothing broken stayed away for long. </p><p>They'd be back, one way or another. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'll never get my deposit back..." Konstantin muttered to himself as he surveyed the damage done to the backseat of the rental car. Between Villanelle's stained overalls and bloodied hands, the canvas seats never stood a chance. Fortunately there were contingency plans in place which took care of matters such as these.</p><p>Konstantin felt around in his vest pocket for the book of matches that would help the car disappear in a cloud of burning rubber and smoke. Once Villanelle and her pesky agent were no longer his responsibility, he would take a long drive into the Italian countryside where he would strike a match and it would all be over. No more bloody fingerprints, no more smelly dumpster water. No more evidence. No more car. </p><p>He just needed to get through the next twenty minutes.</p><p>Konstantin grabbed the last of Villanelle's bags from the passenger seat and turned toward the safe house. It was less of a house and more of a shoebox-sized apartment, criminally small by all standards. Upon first laying eyes on it, Konstantin assumed Villanelle had done something to piss the Twelve off, though he quickly realized this was not an act of petty revenge but of strategic risk. The apartment was less than a kilometer from an international university and housed many of the students who attended there. Villanelle would fit in perfectly with her neighbors seeing as they were young, full of angst, and perpetually tired. </p><p>Konstantin was about to become very well acquainted with one of them.</p><p>"Look out!"</p><p>Konstantin had enough time to swivel around and see he was in the direct path of an oncoming skateboarder. He watched in slow motion as the rider crashed into his chest and they took a tumble. The skateboard went one way and Villanelle's bag went the other. </p><p>"Oof! Sorry, old man." The skateboarder, a young man in his mid twenties, bounced up and held a hand out to Konstantin. The older gentleman was still smarting from the remark made about his age and he slapped the hand away. The skateboarder took no offense. "Let me at least get your bags...?" </p><p>Villanelle's bag had ripped open in all the commotion and her clothes were now a colorful puddle on the sidewalk. The skateboarder paused and looked from Konstantin to the clothes, back to Konstantin, then to the car, back to Konstantin, now to the apartment where Eve was emerging.</p><p>"What's this?" Eve had seen nothing of the crash, only that Konstantin was sitting on the ground like an unhappy troll. She ran to his side. "Are you alright?"</p><p>Konstantin shooed Eve away too. "I'm fine, woman. I mean <em>darling. </em>My sweet. Light of my life. I was just getting to know our <em>detka</em>'s neighbors." </p><p>"What the hell is a <em>det- </em>Did you hit your head? Is that what's happening? Vill- ooooooh." Eve shut up quickly as she registered the scene before her. "Riiiiight. We're moving our <em>detka </em>into her first apartment. Which is here. A college town. I'm her mother." Eve awkwardly shook the young man's hand. "I'd, uh, better go back inside and make sure she's okay. First time away from home, you know." </p><p>Konstantin resisted the urge to face palm. "Yes, please go away. Take her clothes with you." </p><p>Eve was gone in under a minute. The young man picked up his skateboard and was about to go when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. </p><p>"You must be a student at the university?" Konstantin held the young man's gaze in his own vice-like one. Something was off. Maybe it was Konstantin being paranoid after Villanelle's second kill or the fact that her first kill had gone awry. His gut told him to question this kid. "Your English is amazing. Where did you learn?"</p><p>"Oh, it's not that good. My parents were in the military and we traveled a lot. I am late for class." He pointed in the direction of the university spires with his skateboard. Konstantin let him go. For now. </p><p>***</p><p>"<em>Detka? </em>Really?" Said Eve once Konstantin was inside. "You're lucky I'm good at acting. I mean, who would believe that we're Villanelle's parents? You're like a fossil and I'm..." She scrambled to find the right word. </p><p>"Asian. Jesus, Eve. Get over yourself, it's the 21st century. Haven't you heard of adoption? Speaking of which, where is orphan Annie?" Konstantin was itching to leave, but not without giving Villanelle a word of caution about the integrity of her cover identity. He didn't like the skateboarder one bit.</p><p>He found Villanelle sitting in the bathtub fully clothed with the water running. Steam rose from the surface of the water, an indicator that the temperature was well above comfortable level.  The water was a sickly shade of brown, probably from the blood mixing with the dumpster juice and God knows what else. In a defeated tone he asked a very obvious question: "What are you doing?" to which he received no acknowledgement. </p><p>Konstantin threw a furtive glance over his shoulder before switching from English to Russian. He told Villanelle about the skateboarder and to make sure her persona was air tight. If she heard a word he said, she didn't show it. By the time the water reached Villanelle's scraped elbows, Konstantin was ready to go.</p><p>On his way out he took Eve by the upper arm. "C'mon, you're going to the train terminal." The MI5 agent gave him a quizzical stare. He knew that look all too well. "Oh no you don't, you're not staying here and blowing Villanelle's cover. You'll get all three of us killed." Konstantin began to walk. There was considerable resistance from Eve.</p><p>"Stop it, I'm staying here. She needs me!" Eve begged. "Let me go."</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. Villanelle was fine before you got here and she'll be fine without you." </p><p>An unmistakable squelching noise, wet and sloppy, entered the scene. The sound belonged to Villanelle. She dripped from head to toe leaving puddles in her wake. One grew under her feet where she stood in front of Eve and Konstantin. </p><p>"Eve stays." </p><p>"No, she comes with <em>me</em>. End of story." </p><p>Villanelle and Konstantin held eye contact without speaking a word. Just when Eve thought they might turn into statues, Konstantin released his grip. </p><p>"I will personally kill both of you if your cover so much as springs a leak, got it?" He directed this to Villanelle. "Don't fuck this up." That was to Eve. </p><p>They watched him climb into the rental car and drive away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Detka is baby in Russian. </p><p>I used Google Translate for that one, so there is a strong chance that's not quite accurate. If you have a better translation please let me know! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I broke this chapter into two! Be on the look out for part two later this week. </p><p>Happy Thanksgiving from Alaska ♥️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of the many qualities Oksana Astankova ascribed to herself, 'stupid' was not one of them. She held her intelligence in high regard and made sure everyone around her knew it. You see, Oksana knew her job made her do very bad things. She also knew she was very good at doing these very bad things, and in her mind she rationalized that the very good she did canceled out the very bad. Anyone who disagreed was simply mowed down to make way for those who could appreciate her natural talent for murder. It just made sense.</p><p>But that was before <em>someone</em> came along and ruined all the fun.</p><p>That <em>someone</em> was Mauris Geller, the psychologist who dared challenge Oksana's line of thinking. He turned her world upside down when he opened his dumb mouth and important science words fell out. At first she ignored him and that seemed to work well enough. Mama had always taught Oksana that fists were more powerful than words, but in that moment Mama was terribly wrong. Mauris' words were like brass knuckles being swung at her stomach again and again. <em>You are heartless. A</em> <em>m</em><em>onster. A psychopath. Evil. </em></p><p>
  <em>Unloveable.</em>
</p><p>That last word rattled around in her head like a pinball lighting up different segments of the machine. Instead of lights going off in her head, the word triggered painful memories from a past she'd hoped to forget. Mama locking her in the dark shed. Mama pouring hot coals on her bare feet. Finally Mama throwing her at the mercy of the orphanage. It all culminated in one big question: was Oksana unloveable? </p><p>She considered this question as she drove her stiletto into Mauris Geller's chest.</p><p>In this moment Oksana realized two things. The first was this: the very bad things she did for her job could not be canceled out by the very good way she performed them. Life was infinitely more complicated than that.</p><p>The second realization was a much harder pill to swallow: she was good at doing bad things because she was <strong>bad</strong>. No amount of following orders could make her good. She had a darkness within her that tainted everything she touched. Oksana's actions made her <em>evil </em>and<em> unloveable. </em></p><p>It also made her cry.</p><hr/><p>The Twelve, a meticulous collection of villainous masterminds, lived up to their reputation of 'best in the biz'. Eve combed through the apartment for any indication they had missed an important detail while crafting Villanelle's cover identity, but she came up blank at every turn. Villanelle's bedroom was a cozy den lit solely by fairy lights and Himalayan salt lamps. Landscape paintings covered every inch of the wall. Someone had even signed the artwork with her false name: Aurora Uytker. </p><p><em>Damn, they're good, </em>thought Eve as she ran a finger over the canvas. She could feel the bumps and ridges of each individual stroke, a sign that a human being hand painted this. More of these landscape paintings hung in the house; above the doorway, two in the kitchen, another on the bathroom door, and one beside a bookcase. The whole apartment, as small as it was, had been staged to look like Aurora was a living, breathing person. Fresh groceries were piled in the kitchen sink and along the counter as if Aurora had just come from the market, and a half finished self-portrait was occupying the small kitchen table. To Eve it was like the apartment was suspended in time; patiently waiting for its occupant's return. It was fascinating and creepy to know that the Twelve had this kind of time on their hands. </p><p>Eve's snooping uncovered a backpack full of sketchbooks and charcoal sticks. Was Aurora an art student? The loose papers and class syllabus which fell out seemed to confirm Eve's suspicions. Aurora was the kind of person who studied urban spaces and sketched impressions of what she saw; she had a way of romanticising even the most mundane scenes. Eve felt like an intruder as she pawed through the sketchbooks. When she'd had her fill, the books, papers, and backpack were returned to their proper space by the front door.</p><p>Belatedly, Eve noticed Villanelle had been absent for quite a while. Temporarily forgetting about the mysteries of this new persona, Eve tiptoed to the bathroom where the sounds of running water could be heard. The door was cracked slightly and she took that as an invitation to come in. </p><p>For the second time that day, the cold hands of fear gripped Eve's chest. Villanelle was sitting on the floor of the tub, her knees drawn to her chest and head tilted back to face the stream of hot water. She had not bothered to remove any of her clothing and the waterlogged denim drooped cartoonishly from her body. The longer Eve stared, the less sense anything seemed to make. Just when things couldn't get any stranger, they did. </p><p>Villanelle began to cry. </p><p>It was a strangled, unnerving sound that reminded Eve of a cat whose tail had been trampled. The odd mewling brought to mind a documentary Eve had seen about feral children; in order to survive they adopted animalistic methods of communicating distress. The fact that Villanelle lacked the ability to express herself properly did not surprise Eve, though it made her want to throttle the demons who raised her so poorly. </p><p>Konstantin's silly cat analogy about Villanelle always landing 'right side up' was brought to the forefront of Eve's mind. Obviously the old man was wrong. Eve had spent enough nights crying in her own bathtub to understand heartbreak when she saw it. On those painful nights she prayed for someone, <em>anyone,</em> to reach in and pull her out of purgatory. </p><p>Of course that never happened.</p><p>Eve was far too weary with the human race to believe anyone could help her. She shared her heartache with no one, opened up to no one, and in the end... she had no one. It was too late for her to break this vicious cycle...</p><p>But it wasn't too late for Villanelle. She was still young and impressionable; green enough to believe in knights and angels, of happy endings and true love's kiss. Eve wanted to be that the guardian angel who looked after Villanelle, the one who guided her to a happy ending. Maybe it was a cheesy sentiment, probably even a little childish. Eve didn't care.</p><p>She reached through the curtain of scalding water to lift Villanelle to safety. Curled, burning hands rose to clasp themselves behind Eve's neck in an awkward hug. </p><p>It was a start.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4 Pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry about the delay on this chapter, the internet in my town has been really spotty with the storms rolling in :( </p><p>This is part two of the previous chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eve had very little experience treating burns and she spent an agonizing ten minutes apologizing for these shortcomings. It was difficult navigating the tender, irritated skin on Villanelle's face, neck, and arms, though the assassin did her very best to follow Eve's instructions. She sat atop the toilet seat and gazed into Eve's face while she worked. Gone were the tears, in its place was a hollow, unreadable expression. </p><p>"Shit," Eve sucked in a sharp breath as her hand brushed Villanelle's cheek. The shirt she was attempting to pull over Villanelle's head had caught on her ears and halted all progress. In her haste Eve was causing more damage. She knew the touch was an accident, but the guilt that washed over her did nothing but make her feel like a terrible friend. She cursed again. </p><p>Villanelle pulled the shirt the rest of the way over her head; she didn't so much as flinch when it rubbed against the flaming red skin on her forehead. She did the same with the sports bra she wore underneath and her panties. Though nudity did not seem to be a serious concern for Villanelle, it brought a deep flush to Eve's face and she quickly turned away. </p><p>"That bad, huh?" Villanelle asked in a thick voice. Notes of rejection and shame echoed in the simple question. "S'okay, I'm a lot uglier on the inside, trust me." She laughed and it was a remarkably lonely sound. </p><p>"Oh my God, no, that's not even—" Eve smothered her sense of impropriety and returned her gaze to Villanelle. In the last 4 hours she'd weathered the least desirable members of society in addition to a murder, she could get over a boob and a vagina. "Let me start again. You are not ugly and I don't even know where you would get that idea. You just so happen to be stuck with the biggest prude in Rome."</p><p>"And you are stuck with a psychopath. I think you have been given the short end of the stick." </p><p>"Would it mean anything to you if I said I chose the stick knowing it was short? There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here." </p><p>Villanelle had nothing to say to that. Tears began to pool in her eyes, though she stubbornly ignored them. Eve wondered if anyone had ever told the young woman that she was wanted. She pressed on: </p><p>"You scared us pretty bad when you ran away. And when you didn't pick up your phone, we panicked— well, <em>I</em> panicked." </p><p>"You worry about me? That's dumb." </p><p>"I've been chasing criminals longer than you've been one; I know for a fact that you can't land on your feet all the time." Eve took one corner of Villanelle's towel and brought it to the corresponding corner, thus covering her body. "Your bosses might be dumb enough to think you're fine, but I know you're hurting." </p><p>This revelation did not sit well with Villanelle. She got to her feet in a one quick motion and the towel fluttered to the ground. "What do you know about me, Eve Polastri? Nothing. You are like Konstantin— you think you know everything. At least the Twelve treat me like the trash that I am."</p><p>"Stop it—"</p><p>"Don't you see, Eve. I'm hideous. I'm heartless—"</p><p>"No!"</p><p>"—a monster."</p><p>"Shut up!"</p><p>"I won't! How could you want to be near me? I'm unloveable." </p><p>They regarded one another unhappily. </p><p>"Is that what this is about? Is that why you ran away?" Eve asked in a quiet voice. "Is that why you burned yourself?" </p><p>"You wouldn't understand." Villanelle's bare chest heaved up and down. She was no longer yelling. The fight seemed to have come and gone in one impassioned whirlwind.</p><p>"I think I do." Eve picked up the towel and opened it wide. "Come here, baby." On the surface it was a straightforward offer; submerged just below was another offer. Eve watched as a war waged itself across Villanelle's face. The victor was a weary, dejected woman who stepped slowly into the towel and allowed herself to be embraced. </p><p>"I'm going to take care of you," Eve whispered. She meant it.</p><hr/><p>Eve sent Villanelle to get changed in the bedroom while she showered. In the seven-minutes-and-twenty-six-seconds Eve spent in the bathroom, she found out how easy it was for one to burn themselves in Italy. The country did not have the same temperature controls as she was accustomed to, and boiling water came spewing out of the faucet with no hesitation. In that moment Eve decided she would take a sponge bath.</p><p>Seven-minutes-and-twenty-six-seconds was enough time for Eve to do some serious thinking. Her head felt unbelievably full from the events which had taken place in the last few hours. Someone was responsible for implanting the idea that the assassin was unloveable and deserving of punishment. Perhaps something about her most recent target triggered a memory. Eve wondered if the signs for self harm had always been there and she was too self-absorbed to notice it.  </p><p><em>No, </em>countered the voice in her head. <em>That's definitely</em> <em>new. </em></p><p>Eve believed this, but she still wasted time chasing down rabbit holes with which ended in more questions than answers. Who had the Twelve dispatched? There was no telling how the victim was connected to the shady organization and any related news would be covered up. The best she could surmise was that the vic had something on Villanelle.  </p><p>Eve didn't waste time trying to guess what that <em>something </em>was. Right now Villanelle didn't need someone poking at old wounds, nor did she need a handler telling her what to do. She needed someone in her corner who could love her unconditionally.</p><p>Villanelle needed a mother.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for all your kind words and comments, they make my day so much brighter! </p><p>I have a general plot that I will be following for this fic, but I encourage you to drop a comment with what you would like to see in future chapters. I want you guys to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry in advance for the long chapter. I appreciate the feedback you guys left on the last one :) I'm working on incorporating it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Had Oksana been in a better mood she might have cracked a smile when Eve suggested spaghetti for dinner. The idea of eating a stereotypical Italian dinner while in Italy was funny… however Oksana did not feel like laughing. She didn't feel like eating either. Quite frankly she found existing to be a chore and on top of that everything hurt. If she could just go back in time and erase this day from the books... </p><p>Only trouble was, Oksana didn't want to forget this day… at least not yet. Eve was here and making things better in her very 'Eve' way. She toiled away in the small kitchen, the sleeves of her borrowed shirt rolled to the elbows and her hair a fluffy halo about her shoulders. </p><p>Oksana couldn't explain the siren call that drew her to Eve, but she was powerless to resist. She lurked in the rear of the kitchenette like a caricature of Frankenstein's monster; a tall, lonely creature with sorrowful eyes. It was important to her that she proved herself useful to Eve, even when it came at the price of her own discomfort. </p><p>"Honey, I can't have you standing there. You're in my way." </p><p>Eve looked displeased. Her perfect lips were pressed into an angry line. Oh no. Oksana was being bad. Bad. Bad. Bad...</p><p>...And just like that, Eve was making things better again. Oksana knew she must be angry, you know, deep down. Yet it was hard to lend credibility to that idea when Eve was giving her the attention she craved. </p><p>"I know you were just trying to be helpful, sweetheart. How about you help me by sitting right here. I could use an extra set of tastebuds." She was patting the counter beside the stove.</p><p>Oksana wanted to be near Eve, so it was a simple decision. After a lot of waiting and not a lot of 'doing', she came to an obvious conclusion. "You tricked me." </p><p>"Tricked you? Hardly. I wasn't lying when I said I needed your assistance. Open." Eve was holding a spoon toward her, sauce-end first. When Oksana went to reach for the handle her hand was gently, but firmly, pushed away. "Ah ah. I hold the spoon. That's my good girl." </p><p>The sauce was tangy and a bit too runny for Oksana's taste, but that wasn't terribly important. Something about Eve's praise made her tummy feel all funny. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. No one ever told her she was a good girl, much less <em>their </em>good girl. She liked it. If those were to be the only words ever spoken to her for the rest of her life, she would die a happy woman.  </p><p>"Say it again, Eve. Tell me I'm good." </p><p>The concept of embarrassment was so foreign to her that the request seemed perfectly natural. Social conventions meant little to a person who did not operate by them. She waited expectantly for the words that would transport her to cloud nine. </p><p>Eve lowered the spoon and leaned in close. "Of course, <em>detka</em>: you're my good girl." </p><p>Oksana smiled. </p>
<hr/><p>Some 15 kilometers south of the safe house, Konstantin dreamed of his own cloud nine. In his fantasy he was dressed in a slim cut suit and eating the best baklava money could afford. Since it was all just a dream, he threw in a few dazzling female escorts and an endless supply of booze. Hell, why not add a yacht? Oh and a tiger!  </p><p>He let his imagination run wild as he walked the scenic road to the town of Valejón. Despite the shitty morning he'd had with his runaway assassin and the nosy MI5 agent, his day seemed to be turning around. It was child's play setting the car ablaze, a task even someone as dense as Eve could do. </p><p>Suddenly his boot caught on a raised tree root and he stumbled. He barely caught himself before he could smash his nose into the asphalt. Cosmic message received: don't talk shit about Eve. </p><p>Konstantin took it as an act of karma and vowed to stop thinking of the MI5 agent as incompetent. She wasn't so bad, really. He was impressed at her ability to find Villanelle using just a phone signal. Not only that, but she seemed to have a handle on the young woman. Never once had Villanelle sought him out for comfort, much less asked that he stay. Not that he would have. There were boundaries he didn't wish to cross, one of them being showing Villanelle how much he cared or how often he worried about her well being. They'd been working together for over ten years, how could he <em>not </em>see the little savage as his own? </p><p>Even with all their shared history, Konstantin hadn't the slightest idea what went wrong that morning. The mark she was tasked with killing was none other than M. Geller, a known blabber-mouth and trafficker whom the Twelve were itching to eliminate from the payroll. Their chance came when Geller sold information to Interpol in exchange for a pardon on his pending child trafficking case. When the call for his immediate execute came down the wire, Konstantin had all but danced for joy. He'd had the psychologist in his own sights for quite some time, though he had enough self-control not to spill that bastard's guts without permission. </p><p><em>Death was too easy,</em> thought Konstantin. He wanted the man to suffer the way that the families of trafficked children had. Geller needed to feel the pain of a thousand deaths, to never know a moment's peace as long as his ugly mug walked the earth. It pained Konstantin to think that his own daughter could have easily been one of the victims. Yes, she was as volatile as a firecracker and she seemed to know everything (or at least she <em>thought </em>she knew everything), but she was so young and so naive sometimes. Konstantin knew he would be lost without her. </p><p>"I'm going soft," He mumbled to himself. </p><p>The rush of protectiveness that came over him reminded him of Eve. The parental instinct that burned within them was powerful and emotionally draining. Konstantin felt like a dick for trying to take Eve away. </p><p>He roughly brushed away a tear and promised to pick up a souvenir for the girls when he stopped in the next town.  </p><p>*** </p><p>The cab from Valejón to Colosseum Courtyard took much longer than expected on account of the bumper to bumper traffic. The sun was beginning to set and Konstantin wanted to be in the city before the street lamps came on. He had his own safe house located in the densely populated section of the Courtyard, a snug Airbnb which would allow him to blend in with the tourists who flocked to the city for a chance to be ripped off for the sake of an adventure'. Tonight the city seemed to be celebrating one of the country's many holidays and the traffic never seemed to end. To save himself an extra 20 euros and the headache of small talk, Konstantin asked to be let out and his driver willingly obliged. </p><p>The hawking and bartering was infinitely worse on the outer edges of Colosseum Courtyard where vendors had less decorum. They could sweet talk a couple hundred bucks off a seasoned tourist and convince the most naive to buy a 'blessed' Roman artifact for the low price of $500. Konstantin was usually impervious to lowbrow sale pitches and could navigate even the busiest crowd, but he was still woefully human and sometimes all it took was the right string of words to pique his interest.</p><p>"A leopard for you, sir? Only 15 euros." </p><p>A stocky woman popped into his field of view with a stuffed animal. It was indeed a leopard, a large one with floppy legs and a eye-catching pattern of spots. Konstantin put on a smile and attempted to walk around the salesperson. They matched his every move with practiced ease. It would take more than a simple 'no' to deter her. </p><p>"Take a look at this great piece of history. Criminals never stood a chance against the leopards in the area, just like you won't stand a chance against its charm." </p><p>It <em>was </em>awfully cute, but Konstantin had no need for it. Before catching a ride out of Valejón he had picked up a keychain for Eve and a magnet for Villanelle. They were sure to be a hit, after all who didn't like keychains and magnets? No one, that's who.</p><p>"Maybe a gift for your daughter?" The vendor eyed Konstantin's gray hair and beard. "Perhaps granddaughter?" </p><p>The image of Villanelle popped into his head. If her cover story was to work, he would need to play the role of 'Papa' flawlessly. </p><p>"<em>Daughter.</em>" Konstantin corrected in his halting Italian. He shelled out a fifty pound note and the transaction was complete. "Keep the change. It's a surprise, pretend you never saw me here." </p><p>The vendor pocketed the money and resumed her predatory sales tactic. By the time he'd reached the end of the street and turned in the direction of home, she'd forgotten his face. </p><p>***</p><p>Konstantin reached his safe house just as the firework display started. Explosions of light and noise filled the streets, adding to the chaos unfolding on a Friday night in the shopping district. </p><p>The Twelve had rented Konstantin an Airbnb above a noisy restaurant. Patrons spilled out into the streets dressed in colorful party clothes. Konstantin had a hard time pushing drunk diners out of his way as he climbed the narrow stairs to his flat. Once inside he threw his coat down and set Villanelle's leopard on the coffee table. He'd stop by her apartment in the next day or so to see how she was getting along. For now he would get some well-deserved sleep.</p><p>He kicked off his boots and made himself comfortable on the couch. By the time the third round of fireworks went off in a deafening blast of smoke and lights, Konstantin was fast asleep.</p>
<hr/><p>It was Eve's every intention to sleep soundly through the night, but the obnoxious firework display made it nearly impossible to do just that. She'd gone to see what the fuss was about after tucking Villanelle in for bed, but all she found were college students dressed to attend the biggest rave this side of the equator. Their LED shirts and JNCO jeans cast ghoulish shadows across their face— God, it was like watching the Purge in real time. Eve found that she couldn't look away.</p><p>At 11:11pm a roar went up from the crowd and the music kicked up a notch. That was when the first of the fireworks launched, raining orange and blue sparks from above. Students of all ages cheered and raised their fists to the sky in a drunken salute. What the hell was going on? </p><p>Eve had half a mind to grab the closest partygoer and figure out just what the hell was going on, but knowing that information wouldn't change a thing. Reasonable bedtimes had gone out of vogue and it was time for the real party to begin. Another firework went off and the apartment was bathed in a lavender light. </p><p>That's it, she was gonna fight the person in charge of this shindig. Eve detached herself from the living room window and bumped squarely into Villanelle. Her ghostly white face glowed in the dim light. She was scared. The whites of her eyes shone in the poor lighting and her shoulders hunched forward as if she were folding in on herself.</p><p>Wordlessly she pressed her forehead into Eve's chest. Another firework exploded and they both jumped. "Can't you make them stop? My head hurts."</p><p>With the party in full swing it was an impossible request. It'd have been easier for Eve to convince the people of Rome that she was Mrs. Claus, than it would have been to implore college students to dial back the celebration. It'd take a superhuman effort to step between young people and their need to eat, drink, and be merry. </p><p>"C'mon, let's forget about them," The MI5 agent walked them back to the bedroom. She was about to suggest Villanelle crawl under the covers when she noticed that the assassin was no longer scared, she was petrified. Her breaths came out in shallow puffs and her body was rigid from fear. This seemed to be about more than just the fireworks. </p><p>She patted the bed for Villanelle to sit… and her hand came away wet. An explosion of green light illuminated a dark patch in the bed. Eve followed the trail of clues from the damp sheets to Villanelle's sleep shirt. The bottom half was wet. </p><p>Someone had had an accident. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just want to clarify that Valejón is not a real city/town. I snagged the name from a name generator website and I thought it sounded fitting. </p><p>The next update should be here shortly!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for your patience and encouragement! Here's another super long chapter for your enjoyment 😅</p><p>I hope everyone had a safe/fulfilling holiday season. Happy New Year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"We cannot be talking about the same Villanelle. Impossible." Konstantin grumbled into his steaming cup of coffee. It was too goddamn early in the morning to be talking about dumb shit with Eve, especially when that dumb shit involved his asset. He hadn't planned on waking up any time before noon, but it was incredibly hard to do that when Eve was harassing him before 7am. When they'd finally met up for coffee at the outdoor cafe, he had begun to see why the agent might be so on edge. </p><p>"Okay, okay. Pretend your story is true— that Villanelle <em>did </em>wet the bed and that she <em>did </em>hit you. It just sounds to me like she's scared of loud noises, what do you want me to do about it?" Konstantin signaled the waiter for another round of coffee. "You're blowing this whole thing out of proportion." </p><p>"<em>Out of proportion?" </em>Hissed Eve. She waited til the waiter finished pouring their coffee before lifting the hem of her shirt to expose her ribs. They were a deep shade of red and purple, painful by the looks of it. He noted the way Eve favored her bruised body and the dark circles which lingered under her eyes.</p><p>"Congratulations, you got exactly what you wanted: quality time with your pet psychopath. I told you to leave her alone." The corner of Konstantin's mouth turned up in a humorless triumph. No amount of deflection could deny what he was seeing. Having been Villanelle's handler for over a decade he had been on the receiving end of her punches. He felt sympathy for the agent, but in all fairness he had tried to dissuade her from getting caught up in whatever shit Villanelle was attempting to work through. </p><p>Eve rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to solicit your pity, Konstantin. Villanelle only hit me because she was scared. Did I tell you what she did when she peed a second time? I though she was trying to bite me, but it turns out she wanted to breastfeed. Tell me I'm not crazy— this isn't normal, even for her." </p><p>"I'll tell you whatever you want to hear, just please don't show me your breast Eve. I can only take so much." Konstantin fished a flask of whiskey from his pocket and upended the contents into his coffee. He could feel Eve crucifying him with her eyes— what more did she want from him? He'd heard Eve recount the last 12 hours in astonishing detail, from Villanelle burning her skin, to wetting the bed, and lastly to breastfeeding. There was not enough whiskey on hand to have this conversation. </p><p>Villanelle's past was no mystery to Konstantin. From the moment they had been paired until now, he knew that the assassin was not over her childhood trauma. The miserable creature rarely spoke about her mother, and when she did it was never in a good light. To add insult to injury, Dasha treated her in a similar fashion. By the time Villanelle rolled into the care of Konstantin she was as emotionally expressive as a rock and as unhinged as a broken cabinet. Very few things about Villanelle could surprise him now. </p><p>Eve sighed. In her retelling of that night's events, she had included that neither she nor Villanelle got a wink of sleep. Eve had washed the bedding and then built a nest on the couch. Villanelle had ignored the cocoon of blankets and decided that she'd rather lay atop Eve to watch TV. From what Konstantin understood, this was the point where the last of the fireworks were launched in a final deafening blast, and also where Villanelle had a second accident. The subsequent adrenaline dump must have triggered a part of her brain which sought comfort in the most primal fashion: at a mother's breast. How could anyone blame the poor thing? Life had not been kind to her. </p><p>"Just tell me what I'm supposed to do, Konstantin. You've known her longest, she trusts you." </p><p>"You are asking for a solution I haven't been able to find for years. I've tried to help her—"</p><p>"—at arms length."</p><p>"Yes, at arms length. If you knew my job you would understand why. We don't coddle the weak, we cut them off and replace them. This is a dangerous game you're playing at, Eve." </p><p>"Don't pretend your job is any harder than mine. If you thought I made Villanelle weak, you would have had me gone before I set foot in the country. You want me here, you think I can help Villanelle. Tell me I'm wrong." Eve challenged him with a fierce glare. Konstantin possessed the physical strength and criminal contacts to make Eve disappear, however, he chose to let her stay around Villanelle. Perhaps he wasn't so good at hiding feelings for his little monster. He wanted what was best for Villanelle, which meant allowing Eve to enter their inner circle. Eve knew she had him cornered.</p><p>The 8 o'clock bell tolled and Konstantin threw a few bills on the table. "You are so annoying, it makes me ill to admit you're right. I have no idea how to fix Villanelle— to don't think she wants to be fixed, if you want my honest opinion. She's stubborn, willful… but she's also family. I'm all ears if you have any suggestions."</p><p>Eve followed Konstantin out of the cafe and to the metro. She glanced at her watch. "This is going to sound crazy, but I have this thought— it's been in my head since last night. If you're not too busy I can share it with you. Villanelle should be at school by now, so I've got my morning free."</p><p>"As long as you don't suggest crack cocaine, I have time to listen. I tried just about every drug with her that you can think of, it was a bad time all around. Would not recommend."</p><p>The aboveground railway car pulled up to the curb and they boarded. At this hour of the day the only commuters were the elderly on their way to town or drunks who were just staggering home after spending the night in the gutter. Eve and Konstantin moved to the back of the car where they posed no risk of being overheard. Konstantin prompted his companion. </p><p>"Go on, share." </p><p>"Well I've been thinking: Villanelle needs a mother…" </p><hr/><p>If there was a textbook example of a 'bad day' this was it. Oksana recited every curse word in every language she knew as she dragged her tired carcass to her 7am class. What dumb fuck had signed her up for a 7am class? Probably someone who didn't give a damn about her sleep schedule. Not that Oksana had had much sleep in the last 24 hours. She could feel her brain unraveling due to a lack of sleep and frayed nerves. </p><p>Eve hadn't gotten much sleep either. Together she and Oksana had stayed up all night listening to the pounding music and fireworks— oh, the fireworks were so <em>bad! </em>Oksana never imagined that they'd stop. She'd sat in Eve's lap while the noise continued. That was until the final blast startled her so bad that… that… that she… </p><p>Oksana's brain did a funny thing.</p><p>She knew something had happened, but her brain refused to fill in the blanks. She remembered being afraid, then Eve holding her so tight that the burnt skin on her arms began to ache. There was another memory, one where Eve was firmly telling her 'no' while she backed away, one hand pressed against her ribs. Oksana immediately felt guilty and tried to think of something else. The only image that came to mind was that of her mother telling her 'no' as she rained blows down on her head. It was an ugly memory. </p><p>Oksana increased her stride. </p><p>The school was only a 10 minute walking distance of the safe house. Students trickled in through the wide gates holding cups of coffee or breakfast sandwiches; this reminded Oksana that she had not eaten breakfast. She stood dumbly under the gate arches wondering where to go. The campus was unfamiliar and she had not taken the time to study the map or any of the classroom buildings. </p><p>"Fucking stellar." She mumbled. She was about to pick a building at random when a young man tapped her shoulder. He had deep brown skin with deep brown eyes to match. He carried a skateboard under one arm and spoke to her in English. </p><p>"I was lost my first day too. If you tell me what major you are, I can point you in the right direction." </p><p>"I'm not a kid, I know how to find the fucking art building. How do you know I'm new?" </p><p>Oksana's hostility did not seem to deter him.   </p><p>"You've got this look— don't worry, I had it too. The place you wanna go is there." He nodded toward a large glass building. "That's where the art and physics classes are, also where the best coffee and breads are sold on campus. I'm Dante, majoring in physics." He extended his hand. She did not shake it. </p><p>"Aurora. Art. You seem very American."  </p><p>Dante smiled. "Did the handshake give it away? Or was it-a my-a bad Italian accent?" He mimicked Mario's accent from the video game. Oksana felt the frost thawing off her personality. </p><p>"Never do that again, it was awful." She was too tired to remember Konstantin's warning about an English-speaking skateboarder. "Walk with me and I'll buy us breakfast." </p><p>Dante obliged. </p><p>***</p><p>The day passed faster than Oksana expected. Aurora was somewhat of a recluse, as were her classmates, and her sudden reappearance at the school was hardly any cause for excitement. Her instructor barely paid her a glance as he complimented her on a recent art installation and retreated to his corner of the studio. Oksana found that she did not have much interaction with her peers either. They all worked independently at their stations, never talking above a whisper or removing their headphones. The ones who worked nearest to Oksana wore the expression one might find on a passionate Michelangelo painting, the subject being in the throes of death. </p><p>Oksana put her head down and pretended to work. Time seemed to creep along slowly for her. College was never something she desired to pursue, not that she had the aspiration to work behind a desk (or in this case an easel) all her life. Quite honestly she thought she didn't know what kind of future she imagined for herself. Her childhood had never set her up for happiness and her adulthood had followed suit. Some of the highlights included playing cat and mouse with Eve and badgering Konstantin, but it was hardly a way of life. She was just surviving. </p><p>At noon Oksana decided she'd had enough of make-believe school for one day. Aurora's schedule said that she had classes until 6pm, but Oksana figured part of the college experience included skipping classes. She slipped out of the building without being noticed. </p><p>Well, almost. </p><p>"Hey, finished already?" </p><p>It was Dante. He carried a heavy book under his arm, probably a very boring book about very boring things, but he was smiling. How could he be smiling when the day was not even halfway done? College kids were fucking weird. Clingy, too. </p><p>"I'm done with class. Are you?" </p><p>Dante shrugged. "I could be. My brain feels too full, I couldn't cram another formula in there if I tried. Had fun finger painting?" He received a deadpan stare for his attempt at a joke. "Bucketloads by the looks of it. I'm thinking about cutting class. Wanna go into town? Us new kids have got to stick together." </p><p>"I've had enough excitement for one day. Maybe another time."</p><p>Dante took out his cell phone and extended it to her. When she did not take it he sheepishly stuffed it into his back pocket. "Sorry, thought you might want someone to show you the city. That's okay. Will you be at tonight's street party? There'll be even better fireworks tonight, maybe even a live artist."</p><p>Oksana's back stiffened at the mention of another night of fireworks and music. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought about the previous night and the accident. She turned on her heel and walked out of the building. Dante called after: </p><p>"I'll look for you there!" </p><hr/><p>Eve's palms were unreasonably sweaty. It felt like all the eyes of Rome were on her, watching her, <em>judging </em>her. She held two paper packages in her arms as she rode the metro to Villanelle's safe house. It was unrealistic to believe anyone knew what was in the bags, but it made her anxious all the same. Despite the ache in her ribs, she held them a little tighter.</p><p>Eve had left Konstantin feeling no less tired, but more confident in the direction she wanted to take with Villanelle. It was no use being coy with Konstantin about her assumption that Villanelle needed a mother. She expected him to look at her with disgust or horror, but his mind seemed to be on the same track. He had even left her the address of a store that could cater to Eve's specific interest and Villanelle's unique needs. He would have joined her, but there matters he needed to take care of on his own. </p><p>Konstantin's departure was some time ago. He promised to meet the girls for dinner at their apartment around 7pm, just two hours from now. That left Eve an hour before Villanelle was due back from school, then another hour to figure out how to broach the most awkward conversation of her life. </p><p>As the sun dipped its head below the skyline, a new clientele joined the commuters taking public transportation. People of all ages were riding the metro in bold patriotic outfits. Some painted their entire face the colors of the Italian flag while others wrote numbers on their cheeks. The more tame outfits came in the form of college students in neon rave gear and young children dressed as a colosseum column. Curious to know the cause for celebration, Eve got the attention of one young lady dressed like a pink highlighter and asked. </p><p>"It is birthday of Rome," Said the young lady in a thick Italian accent. "Our city is 1772 this week. We do not know what day, we celebrate all week. Where do you go tonight?" </p><p>Though the woman's English wasn't perfect, Eve understood what she was asking: Where was she going to party? She looked down at her borrowed joggers and oversized shirt, wondering what about her clothing suggested she had any intention to socialize. "Oh… uh… I'm going home. To sleep." Not a total lie. She was awfully tired, but there was an element of excitement as well.</p><p>She rode the rest of the way thinking about all the things she would do differently tonight. </p><p>***</p><p>Eve did not expect to find Villanelle asleep on the couch when she entered the apartment. According to Aurora's schedule she was not to return until classes were done at 6, yet here she was in all her drooling glory. The assassin had not even bothered to remove her shoes as she sprawled out on the couch, surrounding by decorative pillows. Eve could already imagine Konstantin's lecture on being 'safe' and following 'routines' when it came to cover maintaining identities. God, he was such a stickler for rules, but it wasn't hard to understand why. If Villanelle continued to do as she pleased she would bring attention to herself and The Organization. Maybe even wind up on the list to be hunted down and killed.</p><p>There was a lot of pressure riding on those slumped shoulders. </p><p>Eve set her packages in the bedroom and returned to the living room with a blanket with the intention of covering Villanelle. The sleepy assassin was on her feet rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her face a blank canvas. In that moment it was easy to believe the young woman was nothing more than a tired college student, not an international criminal with a body count higher than a church cemetery. Her large green eyes settled on Eve's face. Her expression was now guarded. Apprehensive.</p><p>"Hello Eve." </p><p>"You're home a lot earlier than I expected, honey. What happened at school?"</p><p>"I didn't want to be there, so I left." </p><p>Eve stopped herself from stating that skipping school was contrary of 'fine', she figured Konstantin would want to broach that conversation later that evening. She sat on the couch with the blanket in her lap. Villanelle hesitated, then lowered herself too. </p><p>"I get it, college isn't for everyone. Aurora may be cut out for that life, but you not so much." </p><p>Villanelle searched her face for any sign of deceit. Eve remained perfectly still. At great length Villanelle spoke. "I don't understand. I broke the rules, Konstantin usually bitches about it. Says I'm irresponsible and the cause for his gray hair."</p><p>"I've had gray hair long before I met you." Eve couldn't help but smile. The smile quickly faded as she cautiously asked her next question. "Can I talk to you about something? It might be an uncomfortable topic… for both of us, actually. I think it's important, though." </p><p><em>God dammit. What the fuck kind segue was that? </em>Eve's inner monologue was right. This was not how she wanted to start this conversation. No going back now.  </p><p>"Are you asking permission to yell at me?" </p><p>"No, I don't want to yell at you, baby. I've had some time to think and I wanted to talk to you about last night. I'll only bring it up this once, then I'll drop it if that's what you'd like." </p><p>The assassin looked at her hands, then out the window. Anywhere but Eve. </p><p>"Oksana?" </p><p>"Whatever Eve. Just get it over with. Tell me that that you want to go back on your word, that I'm too much trouble—"</p><p>"No, no. That's not it at all." Eve said, closing the distance between them. "I'd never go back on a promise to you. Never. I meant what I said: I'm going to take care of you."</p><p>"What, by taking me to therapy? The funny farm?" It was more accusatory than questioning. Tears were gathering at the edges of Villanelle's eyes. "Am I that terrible?"</p><p>"You're being nasty and I don't appreciate it. You're going to drop the attitude and listen to me." Eve brushed the tears from Villanelle's face with the bottom of her shirt. "I'm not trying to fix you or send you anywhere. I think you've had enough of that between your employers, Konstantin, and Dasha." </p><p>Villanelle sucked in a breath. </p><p>"Oksana. Baby. As hard as it is to believe, I'm not trying to control you or tell you to be someone who you don't want to be." </p><p>"I've heard that before."  </p><p>
  <em>Here we go, Eve. It's time for the pitch.</em>
</p><p>She took the assassin's burnt hands in her own. "I guess you have heard that before. People you've trusted, people you've loved— they've made similar promises and let you down. I understand why your trust is so hard to come by. You have no reason to believe I want to take care of you, but <em>I do. </em>I can only show you that I'm trustworthy, I can't force you to depend on me." </p><p>Eve knelt in front of Villanelle, hands still together. "You may think I'm full of shit or that I'll disappear when the going gets tough, but do you feel this?" She squeezed their hands. "I'm real, I'm not a fantasy. I'll be there for you through thick and thin. You'll never have to be alone when shit goes sideways. You'll always have someone to love you unconditionally and remind you that you're not a bad girl. I want that someone to be me." </p><p>In the silence that followed Eve could swear that her heart would fall right out of her chest. She wondered if Villanelle was having the same palpitations. The young woman's face was unreadable. </p><p>From Eve's coat pocket came the sound of her cheesy ringtone. Probably Konstantin. The cantankerous man had impeccable timing for ruining good moments. Eve ignored it. The phone went off once more. </p><p>"He'll just keep calling."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>Villanelle looked down her nose at Eve with tears in her eyes. "I said he'll keep calling. Konstantin. He's so needy."</p><p>The absurd comment was exactly what the tense situation needed. Eve laughed.</p><hr/><p>Oksana didn't laugh. She was too busy memorizing every line of Eve's beautiful face, every hair strand of hair she'd missed in her ponytail, every imperfection that made Eve a being not of this world. Eve's hands were soft and strong. It made the powerful assassin feel small and safe. She wanted to hold these hands forever. She wanted to be <em>held </em>by these hands forever. </p><p>But good things weren't supposed to happen to people like her. She wasn't supposed to be here, happy. She belonged with the other degenerates of society, the ones who couldn't find their niche and in due course fell through the cracks, never to be seen again. She was destined for Skid Row— always had been. </p><p>Yet Eve was telling her otherwise. She was offering Oksana an olive branch, a chance to try again. Would she be fool enough to deny it a second time. Oksana stared intently at their hands, scared if she looked away they would be gone. Poof. Like smoke or pixie dust. </p><p>Eve squeezed their hands again. "What do you say, huh?" </p><p>Yes. <em>Yes. YES. </em>She wanted this. </p><p>"Yes, Eve." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things should finally get rolling in the plot! As always, I appreciate your comments ^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was very hard to take Konstantin seriously when he was scolding Eve in a pair of lobster-claw oven mitts. He looked utterly ridiculous. Eve told him so. </p><p>"Take the mitts off, you look like an idiot."</p><p>"You look like an idiot. Why didn't you get yourself some clothes while you were out?" He waved a claw at her. "This has got to go."</p><p>Eve suddenly felt self conscious in her oversized clothes. She <em>had </em>bought herself a new wardrobe while shopping that afternoon, but Konstantin didn't need to know that. They'd spent the last half hour arguing over Villanelle's early arrival from school while the assassin napped on the couch. Just when Eve assumed the argument to be over, Konstantin would begin from the top. </p><p>"You must have a death wish for all of us. Haven't I told you what happens if Villanelle deviates from her schedule?" </p><p>"She gets marked absent…?" </p><p>"No<em>, </em>you dunce. She gets us killed, that's what happens. There's endless ways to fuck up when you do things willy-nilly. Hey, open your hand," Konstantin placed a square potato in Eve's waiting palm. They would be having shish kebabs that evening, courtesy of 'chef' Konstantin. The prickly gentleman was full of many surprises, not all of them bad. He'd surprised Villanelle that evening with a stuffed leopard. A very good surprise indeed. </p><p>Eve glanced through the kitchen doorway to where she could see Villanelle on the couch. She was snoozing with her nose buried in the animal's velveteen fur. </p><p>"She's a college student, Konstantin… and sometimes college students skip classes. I know I did." Said Eve.</p><p>"That explains more than you know— Ah! A joke!" Konstantin staved off her slaps with his arm. "But seriously, Villanelle can't backslide on her assignment. The easy part of the job is committing the murder, the hard part is waiting for extraction."</p><p>"If it's such a big deal why are you telling me?"</p><p>"Because when I try telling her what to do, it goes through one ear and out the other— just like Irina." </p><p>"I think that how most kids are with their parents." </p><p>"I'm way too young and good looking to be her father. Plus I don't think of her that way." </p><p>"Right." Eve hid her grin behind her hand. She'd witnessed Konstantin's tender side as he presented the leopard to his asset. Of course he followed up the sweet gesture by saying it was for the sake of keeping up appearances, but they both knew better. There was no denying his fatherly affection toward Villanelle. </p><p>A cheer went up from outside the apartment reminding those indoors that a party was in full swing. Particles of glitter rained down on the eager crowd below as they danced along with the music and laser light show. Oh, to be young and capable of enjoying such bacchanalia. </p><p>"Eve? <em>Eve."</em>  </p><p>The agent stepped away from the window. After images of lights and glitter were burned into her eyelids. "Yes?" </p><p>"I believe you're needed in the living room." </p><p>***</p><p>Konstantin was right. Eve <em>was </em>needed in the living room. The lights, the noise— it was too much for Villanelle who'd been woken out of her sleep by the sudden bass drop. Her cries for Eve were answered and she was taken to the bathroom where it was revealed she'd had an accident. </p><p>Eve was now attempting to lower Villanelle into the bathtub. The frightened assassin was fighting her every step of the way. </p><p>"Oksana, the water is fine. Look," Eve swished her hand in the water. "It'll be quick, I promise." </p><p>The naked young woman slipped out of her grasp and out the door. </p><p>"Konstantin!" </p><p>A brief scuffle ensued as Villanelle was caught by her handler and strong-armed back into the bathroom. He remanded her into Eve's custody.</p><p>"Do as your mother says."</p><p>"Oh, that's not necessary—" Eve quickly interjected. </p><p>"No, she will listen or I will stand here all night." Konstantin's face softened ever so slightly. "<em>Detka. </em>Please, for us. Do as Eve says." </p><p>Villanelle considered his words in angry silence. She plunked herself down into the tub, much to her handlers approval.  </p><p>True to her word, Eve was fast. All traces of Villanelle's accident were washed down the drain and her clothes thrown in the laundry basket. The young woman was toweled off then made to sit on the edge of the bed. Eve could feel her eyes on her as she retrieved her shopping parcels. </p><p>"You and Konstantin are making a big deal out of nothing. It was just an accident." </p><p>"We know, baby, and we don't blame you." Eve reached into the bag and produced a fluffy white rectangle which crinkled when it was held it out for Villanelle to see.</p><p>"A diaper? Is this a joke? Are you and Konstantin making fun of me?" She laughed cruelly.  "You got me good. Ha ha."</p><p>Eve waited til Villanelle was done. "Konstantin and I met this morning and agreed this would be good for you. Now, you're going to let me put this on or you don't leave this room. Am I understood?" </p><p>"But Konstantin—" </p><p>"<strong>Am I understood?</strong>" </p><p>Villanelle deflated. </p><p>"Good. Lay down." </p><p>Eve had never diapered a baby, let alone a grown woman. She considered calling Konstantin for assistance, then abandoned that idea. No way.  </p><p>Eve set about unfolding the thick diaper and sliding it under Villanelle's bottom. She applied a liberal amount of baby powder between her legs— perhaps too much— before she pulled the tabs together on the front of the diaper. It was a little lopsided and a hair too tight, but it'd do. To finish the ensemble Villanelle was given a shirt. </p><p>"There, you're all set honey." </p><p>"No, not 'all set'. I have no pants." </p><p>Eve shook her head. There would be no pants for her. Villanelle was going to play by someone else's rules tonight— Eve's rules. Konstantin was right about his asset's cavalier attitude toward commands: she could land them in an unmarked grave off the shores of Zanzibar. If Villanelle could follow a simple order, there'd be hope for their safe extraction.</p><p>So in other words: 'no' to pants.  </p><p>Villanelle stood in front the mirror turning this way and that. Her cropped pajama shirt stopped a few inches above her diaper, exposing her pale, freckled skin.  </p><p>"But what will Konstantin say? He will call me a baby."</p><p>"No, he won't. I already told you, we agreed on this. Help Konstantin set the table while I clean up." </p><p>Eve waited til she was alone before running nervous hands through her hair. This was her first real brush with motherhood and she was scared. What if she fucked this up? Would Villanelle hate her forever? </p><p>Eve stared into the mirror at the harried woman standing there. Her clothes were rumpled and her hair could use a brush, but there was love and determination in there.</p><p>Maybe even a dash of confidence too.</p><hr/><p>Konstantin stood on the front step of the apartment with Eve. He had said his goodbyes to Villanelle while inside, promising that he'd see her 'soon'. While that answer was good enough for his asset, it was not for Eve. </p><p>"When will we see you again?" </p><p>"I don't know… two, maybe three days. Can you manage her for that long?" </p><p>"Pfft yeah, piece of cake." </p><p>"No really, can you manage her? She can get hangry if she hasn't eaten—"</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"—and her sassiness—"</p><p>"Yes, I know." </p><p>"—okay, but her night terrors are especially bad when—" </p><p>"Uh-huh, I've got it under control. Konstantin, why are you stalling? </p><p>Konstantin gaped. He wasn't doing anything remotely close to <em>stalling! </em>He was simply prolonging their inevitable goodbye. Big difference. Miffed, he shuffled off the patio and down the walkway. </p><p>"Go home, get some sleep. Call me after your big meeting tomorrow." </p><p>Konstantin's meeting tomorrow would be enough to establish physical contact with the Organization and give a brief report. In exchange they would give him the information needed for the extraction operation. The rest would be delivered on a burner phone 12 hours before the set date, a time which neither Konstantin nor Villanelle knew. Eve's attempt to understand their crazy world was admirable and for that Konstantin was grateful.</p><p>He gave a two finger salute to the agent and made his way through the crowd to the metro station. By the time he reached home the firework show had begun. </p><p>***</p><p>Konstantin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His train partners, sent courtesy of The Organization, were a man and a lap dog. The mongrel glared haughtily at Konstantin from under its owner's well manicured hands.</p><p>"Does it bite?" </p><p>The man lowered his reading book a fraction of a centimeter to fix Konstantin with a cold gaze. His tan skin contrasted with the brilliant white fur of his pooch. He wore expensive clothes, the kind without tags to dissuade common folk from ever attaining his standard of wealth, and carried a briefcase on the adjacent chair. </p><p>"No." </p><p>Konstantin held all further questions til they stepped off the train. They'd stopped in a picturesque town, the kind a person would imagine when dreaming of the Italian countryside. There was little time to appreciate its beauty. Just as soon as they'd stretched their legs and the dog had done its business they were boarding another train. </p><p>"So… do you like trains? Is that your schtick?" Konstantin tapped his fingers on his knees. He wasn't a huge fan of trains— the noise and perpetual shaking make him motion sick. </p><p>"Different train, different passengers. We have reason to believe someone has compromised your identities." </p><p>The man turned his phone screen to Konstantin to show him the headline: International Criminal Linked to Tourist Murder. The article was not the only one like it. Several other news outlets had come to a similar conclusion.</p><p>"You and your asset have been flagged as a high risk endeavor. Your shoddy execution has earned you a singular warning: mess up again and there will be a bounty on your heads." The man didn't blink once. Konstantin had been in the game too long to be put off by some yuppie's attempt at control. He could sense there was something else afoot. </p><p>"Alright, I tell Villanelle to play her part. Done. Now tell me why you're really here?" </p><p>"I beg your pardon?" </p><p>"I don't believe you were sent to deliver just a message." Konstantin relaxed and propped his foot onto his knee. This man wasn't so hard to read after all. "You think we're being followed. You had us switch trains to lose our tail." </p><p>It was now the man's turn to shift uncomfortably. "Your asset's performance has caught the attention of the American intelligence agency. They touched down shortly after Geller."</p><p>"Then they were there when Villanelle…?" He made a stabbing motion in the air.</p><p>"Unknown. Regardless, they will be looking for a bumpkin tourist from Argentina, not a Russian art student. No issues with the cover?"</p><p>"None." He lied. They had bigger fish to fry, no use exposing the fact that Eve was here.</p><p>The train slowed at a station a few kilometers out of the city and the man collected his belongings. Konstantin rose to follow him and he was quickly rebuffed. </p><p>"This is my stop. Pray that we don't cross paths again." He descended the stairs and stood on the platform watching the train pull away from the station.</p><p>Konstantin leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd like to apologize on the front end for this chapter being a bit wonky. I've written/edited it almost exclusively between the hours of 11pm-3am for the last few nights which is never a good idea. I'll run through this again with a fine tooth comb at an hour where I can catch the mistakes! </p><p>As always, thanks for reading! Enjoy :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"That'll be 7 euros." </p><p>Oksana handed money to the cashier and exited the campus cafe with her lunch. She'd endured four hours of her peers talking nonsense and now she wanted nothing more than to be left alone with her thoughts. Dante was either impervious to resting bitch face or he didn't understand body language all that well. He set his food down at her table and made himself comfortable. </p><p>"Is that all you're having?" </p><p>Oksana's lunch consisted of a large coffee and a can of condensed espresso. She looked over at his soup and sandwich and felt her stomach churn. Nothing about solid food appealed to her and she said as much. </p><p>"Well, if you get hungry you can always have some of mine." </p><p>Dante did most of the talking throughout their lunch hour. He spoke about his exploits at last night's party and asked whether Aurora had attended. Her no did not seem to slow him down as he had many other things he wanted to talk about. For starters there was a robot prototype he and the other physics majors were building. Or the club sign-ups happening next week. Oh and museum exhibition. </p><p>Oksana nodded and 'mhmm'ed at all the right spots, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Today Konstantin was supposed to be giving report to their bosses and she wondered what he would say. Would he tell them about Eve? Or about Oksana going off schedule? Maybe he'd make her do another psych evaluation. The anticipation was killing her.</p><p>She downed her coffee and was on to her espresso can by the time Dante stopped to breathe. She used this as an opportunity to escape. </p><p>"I'm going to get more coffee." She walked into the cafe, passed the cashier without so much as a second glance, and exited through another door. </p><p>***</p><p>Oksana typed the numbers to Eve's burner cellphone with shaking fingers. The time between each ring seemed to last an eternity.  </p><p>
  <em>Brrrrrr. Brrrrrr. Brrrrrr. Click- </em>
</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>"Eve, it's me. I want to come home. I don't like it here."</p><p>"You know it's not possible to come home right now. Mommy needs you to stay at school."</p><p>There was nothing sweeter to Oksana's ears than the sound of Eve's voice. She bit her lip and let the tears pass. No crying allowed, she was an adult and adults weren't supposed to cry. Especially not in university wash rooms. </p><p>"Sweetheart? Hello? Are you there?" </p><p>"I- I'm here. Have you heard from Konstantin?" </p><p>No, Eve hadn't heard from him. For all they knew he was dead and someone was coming to kill Eve. Oksana was the only person who could stop them from hurting anyone else. She felt ill. Everything and everyone was fucked and it was her fault.</p><p>"Eve, I have to go now." She hung up abruptly. If she wanted to ensure the safety of those around her, she needed to do it the right way. She had to make it right and the only way she knew how was by following the rules. She'd play her assigned role and listen to Eve's advice. She'd stay at school.</p><p>Oksana climbed the stairs to the artists loft. She hesitated by the bulletin board. A slip of paper advertised extra credit for students who helped set up art installations each night of the Roman celebration. She brought the paper to her professor. </p><p>"You are not in need of extra credit, Aurora, but we could always use a hand. You will be excused from your classes after 4 o'clock." The art professor smiled encouragingly. "The team will be lucky to have such a diligent worker." </p><p>"<em>Graize." </em></p><p>Only three hours to go. </p><p>***</p><p>Painting clouds on cardboard boxes was easy. The hard part was making small talk with the losers who needed the extra credit. The people overseeing the project were adjunct professors who wanted to see their artistic dream come to life at the patriotic celebration. They lumped students of various talent and conversational skills into groups, then set them loose with a bucket of phosphorescent paint. </p><p>Oksana did her best to work quietly, but her partner was a chatty freshman failing her first semester of biology. She complained about the professors in a poor attempt to elicit sympathy from a fellow student. Neither Eve or Konstantin said Oksana had to be nice, so she ignored the freshman as best she could. </p><p>The kid, Tabitha or something, droned on. "I can't take the stress anymore. If I don't pass my parents will kill me." </p><p>"A lot of your problems would go away if you killed them instead. School is waste of time, your problems are made up, and nothing is real." </p><p>There was a period of silence where Oksana wondered if she'd gone too far. Then:</p><p>"I'll never understand art students and their complicated metaphors." Tabitha sighed. "Thanks I guess." </p><p>They finished their boxes and placed them in the growing pile on the sidewalk. Other students were wrapping up their portion of the art piece and gathering them into their own piles. Oksana couldn't make sense of the final product and to be honest, she didn't especially care. She was more than happy to do busy work in order to get out of her boring class.</p><p>She was about to sign the ledger for extra credit work when someone bumped her shoulder. </p><p>"Forgetting something?" </p><p>It was Dante with a cup of coffee. Same order Oksana had from lunch too. She took it while he signed for her. </p><p>"A-U-R-O-"</p><p>"This isn't our first meeting, silly. I know your name." He signed first and last, then stealthily signed his own name, despite not being a part of the painting crew. "Pretend you didn't see that." </p><p>The 6 o'clock bell tolled and what little students remained on campus filtered out. Food trucks and sound technicians were setting up their equipment along the cordoned off streets. Hungry college students stopped to grab a bite before heading home. Oksana had to admit the smell of fried food and sweet treats was absolutely intoxicating. </p><p>Dante caught her staring. "You ditched me at lunch, so you owe me. I think dinner will make us even." </p><p>"Do I?" </p><p>"Well, at least an explanation. How about you tell me over crepes? That lady loves me and she'll give me a discount." He popped into line without waiting for an answer. In true Dante fashion, he flashed a dazzling smile and charmed his way into getting two savory crepes for the price of one. "Ta-da." </p><p>They sat on the curb and ate while the sun sank behind the city skyline. Dante had the decency to wait until Oksana had finished her dinner before starting his inquisition. </p><p>"I think it's pretty obvious you're a loner, but I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. Why do you keep ditching me?" </p><p>"Ditching you? I didn't think we were friends. Wait… did you?" </p><p>He shot her a wounded look. "Yeah... until a second ago." </p><p>Oh God dammit. What a loser. Oksana wracked her brain for an appropriate response that would fit her persona. She hated herself for not taking this particular job seriously. </p><p>"I, um, I'm not good at friendship. It's hard for me to make friends. I'm used to being alone." </p><p>"That's why you've got me. We can be alone together." </p><p>"That is the dumbest shit I've heard all day." </p><p>"I guess you haven't heard me practice my Italian."</p><p>Oksana couldn't stop the genuine laugh that bubbled out of her chest. It was infectious and soon Dante was laughing too. They laughed like two children until Oksana's bladder began to ache. A bathroom break was in order. </p><p>"What time is it?" </p><p>"Uh it's almost 7. Why?" </p><p>She dusted off the seat of her pants and tightened the straps on her satchel. How had she lost track of time? Eve was probably worried sick.</p><p>Dante was watching her with another of his hurt expressions. "Hey, before you give me some excuse about going home before midnight, why don't you stick around for a few minutes? You should at least see what you painted." </p><p>"No, I—" She was about to decline when she remembered her promise to make things right. The assassin took a deep breath and shrugged. "A few minutes won't hurt." </p>
<hr/><p>Eve paced the length of the living room in a nervous frenzy. It was half past 8 and Villanelle was nowhere to be found. </p><p>Konstantin was no help. he told Eve to kick back with a bottle of tequila and call him when it was an emergency. It sounded like he'd taken his own advice. He was making even less sense than usual the way he was going on about someone watching their movements and secret spies. Well duh, the Twelve were no doubt the ones doing the watching. Those hungry vultures didn't have Villanelle's interest at heart, but Eve did. She'd brave the madness to find her. </p><p>"I don't want you to tell me to stop worrying." Eve said as she threw on her jacket. "It's late and she hasn't called."</p><p>"Fine, fine. I won't stop you, but I can tell you to be careful." </p><p>"I will be."</p><p>The smell of fast food and alcohol hit Eve like a tidal wave the moment she stepped out of the apartment. It was a vile assault on her olfactory senses, much like the music was an auditory assault to her ears. It took her a minute to clear her head and figure out a game plan. She'd cut between the apartments to find the quickest route to the university.</p><p>That plan worked until Eve encountered her first dark alley and abandoned that idea. She'd stick to the well lit street. </p><p>Cognitively she was aware that the university was a kilometer away, but tonight it felt like it was on the other side of the moon. It took a quarter of an hour to travel a block down the vomit-filled sidewalk. The bell tolled 9pm just as she entered the university grounds. This was taking too long! </p><p>Eve stumbled over her own feet and landed heavily on the asphalt. She lay there feeling sorry for herself, both angry and afraid for waiting so late to find Villanelle. She allowed herself this moment of self pity before getting to her feet and continuing her search. The nearer she drew to the party's epicenter, the harder it was to navigate the crowd. She caught a few elbows to the forehead and sternum, but she didn't let that slow her down. </p><p>"AURORA!" Eve cried in hopes that Villanelle could hear her above the music. "AURORA!" </p><p>A drunk fist collided with her mouth and she went down again. To add insult to injury, someone's size 9 boot stomped on her hand and a knee went into her back. A good samaritan plucked Eve from the cobbled street and set her right side up. There was no time for Eve to thank her saviour. The crowd swept her forward and she resumed her search.</p><p>"AURORA! AURORA!" </p><p>Eve felt like a salmon swimming upstream.</p><p>"AURORA! AURORA!" </p><p>Every step took more energy than the last. </p><p>"DAMMIT MOVE! AH!"</p><p>She was pushed to the edge of the crowd where uniformed police officers descended on her from either side and wrestled her away. She struggled against their grip as they ruined her best chance at finding Villanelle.</p><p>"Stop! You don't understand! Hey! Where are you taking me?"  </p><p>Wherever it was, it was brightly lit and smelled of disinfectant soap. The officers left her in the care of a nurse who led Eve to an unoccupied cot. The sudden shift from chaos to relative calm had an almost dreamlike quality. It was absurd and Eve felt herself going along with it. The nurse had her sit down so that he could take her blood pressure. </p><p>"Do you speak English?" Eve asked hopefully. </p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Where am I?" </p><p>He wiped the blood from Eve's mouth and shone a penlight into her eyes. She flinched and the light withdrew. </p><p>"You are in a medical tent. Have you taken any substances tonight?" </p><p>"No, no. I'm looking for someone. Her name is Aurora, she might be here with you." Eve stood up and the room spun. She immediately sat down. "I need to find her. She didn't come home." </p><p>"Does Aurora have a last name?" </p><p>Eve did her best to remember Villanelle's cover identity, but she could barely remember her own name. She gave a description of Villanelle instead. "She's wearing a green sweater, green leggings, blonde hair. Her name is Aurora, she's 24." </p><p>An iPad was brought to the nurse and he flipped through the roster. "Is that Aurora Uytker? We have her in medical tent 3. I could have an officer take you there."</p><p>"Yes. Please."</p><p>***</p><p>Medical tent 3 was not a whole lot different from any of the other pop-up medical tents. Eve couldn't stop herself from half-running, half-stumbling to Villanelle's side. She embraced her in a bone crushing hug, ignoring the ache in her hand and chest. "I was so worried about you!" </p><p>Villanelle never once acknowledged Eve's presence. She clutched the edges of her blanket and stared forward. Eve flagged down someone in medical scrubs. </p><p>"Excuse me— hey, excuse me! How long has she been here?"</p><p>"About 20 minutes. She came in with another kid, a student from the university. Careful, she urinated twice. I suspect she has had too much alcohol." </p><p>"Can I take her home?"</p><p>The nurse had Eve sign a waiver. "Have her drink water tonight, then milk in the morning. Would you like something for your lip?" </p><p>Eve touched her face as if she were noticing the injury for the first time. Her hand came away bloodied. "Huh? Uh, no thank you. I'll be fine."</p><p>"Okay. I will have someone walk you home."</p>
<hr/><p>"This had better be a fucking emergency…" Mumbled Konstantin under his breath. He was about to trek across the city at Eve's behest. Her panicked phone call was enough to trigger his own anxiety and he agreed to meet her at the apartment against his better judgement. On one of the craziest nights of the year, no less!</p><p>It would have been easier for him to find a four leaf clover in the Sahara Desert than to catch a taxi. The white cabs moved through sluggishly through traffic, stopping every five or six meters as a pedestrian under the influence of alcohol or drugs wandered into the street. Riding the metro was equally hazardous. It was safe to say that tonight was not the kind of night to take public transportation. </p><p>So Konstantin chose to walk.</p><p>He had time to consider what he would tell the girls when they inevitably asked about his conversation that morning. There was no use in sharing what they already knew; everyone knew they were fucked and reiterating that sentiment could only make a tense situation worse. Villanelle was a smart girl and knew the pressure she was under. </p><p>Konstantin passed a line up of food trucks on his way to the apartment. The police barricades rerouted the flow of foot traffic around the university, thus taking him away from the noisy soundstage and toward sweet and savory smells. He decided he deserved a treat.</p><p>"<em>One Nutella crepe please</em>."</p><p>"<em>Only one? You should treat yourself to two. It's a holiday, live a little!" </em>Replied the young man in Italian. He looked to be in his early twenties, probably a student attempting to pay off his school loans by putting in hours on a busy holiday. Poor kid should be enjoying the festivities. </p><p>The feeling of deja vu washed over Konstantin as he waited for his food. Something had tripped a wire in his brain and he was curious to know what. Was it the party? Was it the song? The smell of Nutella? </p><p>The kid?</p><p>Konstantin watched him for a few minutes. He worked diligently, following the orders of the woman who instructed him how to pour the batter and when to flip it. He had a mop of curly hair and an easy smile. A circuit in Konstantin's head shorted and the connection was lost.</p><p>The crepe was done in no time and Konstantin was back on his journey. The flakey dessert was warm and tasted fantastic. Konstantin considered going back to get another, maybe even getting one for the girls. Given the news he'd be bringing, perhaps he could soften the blow with Nutella. </p><p><em>Like Christ's Last Supper. I wonder which of us is Judas? </em>He mused darkly. Nothing like fixating on a dilemma over crepes. </p><p>He walked back to the truck with every intention of complimenting the young man for his prediction of needing more food, however, he was nowhere to be found. With only one person working behind the counter the line was growing quite long. </p><p>Konstantin stood on the sidewalk at a loss. The longer he deliberated the more he felt certain it wasn't the food bringing him back to the stand, but a nagging desire to resolve his deja vu. What was the damn trigger?</p><p>His mind replayed the conversation between himself and the student. Something about it was off. Perhaps Konstantin committed a social faux pax he was unaware of due to the language barrier? Or some other social norm lost in translation. </p><p>
  <em>Translation. Translation. Something about the kid's accent.</em>
</p><p>Now he was getting somewhere. His conversation with the Organization came to mind. </p><p><em>American intelligence agents were in the area. </em> </p><p>Konstantin thought about his social interactions in the last three days. Only one struck him as odd. The kid with the American accent. They'd met by accident outside Villanelle's safe house.  </p><p>Unless it wasn't an accident.</p><p>Maybe it was staged. By the Americans. The kid was with the Americans. Of course!</p><p>It was a coincidence that they'd met in a seemingly random part of town at the same time as a murder. And now they'd encountered one another <em>twice </em>in the span of three days. Lightning never struck twice.</p><p>Konstantin needed to play this information to his advantage while he still had the upper hand. The kid's lack of experience and false sense of security would prime him for the coup de grâce. But it was still too soon. In the event this did not go as planned, Konstantin would need to sever contact with Eve and Villanelle to ensure their safety. It was a necessary evil. </p><p>Unfastening a powerful magnet from the bottom of his shoe, Konstantin ran it across his phone. He threw the phone into the trash with his waste wrapper.</p><p>***</p><p>Konstantin followed the stream of foot traffic to the top of the university loop. Looking down into the sea of bodies, he never felt so alone. He was not a philosophical man and did not dwell on the implications of being alone in a crowd. Instead, he turned his gaze up, up, up...</p><p>…to a hand painted rainbow overhead. It stretched from one end of the school courtyard to the other. Hundreds of boxes forming a glowing arch above the crowd. He watched in awe as one by one boxes opened and glitter poured out. The people cheered. Konstantin cheered.</p><p>Tonight he was going to hang loose and party like it was 1979. </p><p>The danse macabre had truly begun. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm still seeking suggestions of what you guys would like to see in future chapters! If there's a particular kink you fancy or you crave tooth rotting fluff, don't hesitate to say something. Your feedback really helps me figure out what to include and what to leave on the cutting room floor. </p><p>(If you're feeling extra shy you can hit up my tumblr and leave an anon message at salemcoven.tumblr.com)</p>
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